


it's not the life it seems

by akamine_chan



Category: Bandom, My Chemical Romance
Genre: Community: yobrothatssick, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-20
Updated: 2011-11-20
Packaged: 2017-10-26 07:49:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/280557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/akamine_chan/pseuds/akamine_chan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Frank woke up struggling to breathe.</p><p>He sat up in his rumpled bed, fighting against the oppressive pressure in his chest.  There wasn't enough air.  He heard himself gasping and choking, felt the congestion and blockage in his lungs stealing his ability to inhale.  What little air he managed to draw in jammed in his throat and suddenly he couldn't exhale, could only wheeze in more air as his chest expanded and dizziness made his head spin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	it's not the life it seems

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the LJ community yobrothatssick
> 
> Lovely beta work done by Andeincascade and Lucifuge5. Thanks, lovies.
> 
> Warning for self-cest and age-differential.
> 
> Prompt: _44\. TIME-TRAVELING FRANK GOES BACK IN TIME TO TAKE CARE OF HIMSELF. Clearly this should end in h/c self-cest._ left by ?
> 
> Title from _I'm Not OK (I Promise)_ by My Chemical Romance; future!Frank's quote at the end adapted from Frank Iero, the real one.

Frank woke up struggling to breathe.

He sat up in his rumpled bed, fighting against the oppressive pressure in his chest. There wasn't enough air. He heard himself gasping and choking, felt the congestion and blockage in his lungs stealing his ability to inhale. What little air he managed to draw in jammed in his throat and suddenly he couldn't exhale, could only wheeze in more air as his chest expanded and dizziness made his head spin.

A sudden spasm wracked him, breaking the weird paralysis, but now he couldn't stop the loud braying coughs. Fumbling for a pillow, he clutched it to his stomach and tried to brace himself like he'd been taught, tried to keep from hacking up his lungs or maybe a kidney or his spleen.

"Easy, Frankie." The voice was familiar, but when Frank opened his watering eyes, all he could see was a shadowed figure at his bedside. "Try to relax, don't fight it so hard," the voice murmured and Frank tried to say "Fuck you" but all that came out was raspy groan.

"You're turning a little blue." A hand brushed his bangs away from his face. "I've got an oxygen tank here, Frankie. It'll help. Hold on for a sec."

There was an unidentifiable rustling sound and a hollow metallic thump that Frank suspected was from the oxy tank.

"Lean forward a little," the voice said and Frank did, feeling the stretch of the elastic band as the clear plastic mask was settled over his nose and mouth. There was a squeaking sound, then a soft hiss as the tank was opened and the oxygen began to flow.

"Breathe, Frankie," and he did, as slowly as he could manage. The oxy was cold, so cold; he shivered as he felt it sliding down his windpipe and filling up his lungs. Blue and cold and soothing.

The coughing eased up and Frank concentrated on breathing, in and out, in and out.

"Good." That voice was so fucking familiar.

"Dad?"

There was a loud snort. "No, not your fucking dad, Frankie. Thanks for making me feel old, though, you little shit." There was more rustling. "Watch your eyes; I'm gonna turn on the lamp."

There was a click and the bedside lamp came on, blindingly bright in the darkness of his bedroom. Frank squinted and blinked, trying to figure out who was here to see him at the lowest point in his miserable life, sent home by his band to recover from whatever fucking flu/cold/bronchitis/consumption that he was suffering from now. It had been absolutely humiliating, packed up like a bratty kid and shipped home...

His eyes finally stopped watering and he _looked_. And looked again, because the guy perched on the edge of his bed was...himself, only older. More tattoos, long hair curling around his face, green grandpa sweater over a tee shirt. He rubbed at his eyes, pressing hard until he saw flashing spots on the back of his eyelids before trying again. Still himself, sitting there _smirking_.

"Delusion," he muttered to himself. "Fever. Brain fried." He felt hot and he'd been sweating, but his fevers didn't usually cause him to hallucinate like this. Maybe it was time to struggle into the shower and try to bring his core temperature down. He'd heard that it was dangerous to let your brain get this over-heated.

The other Frank reached out and pinched his bare arm, not hard, but with enough pressure to make Frank flinch a little. "Fucker," he complained over the soft _sssss_ of the oxygen flowing into his mask.

"Just wanted to make it clear I wasn't a figment of your imagination."

Frank was intimately familiar with that lopsided smile; he'd seen it so many times in the mirror. He didn't let himself get distracted by how good his smile looked on someone else's—well, on _his_ face. He wanted some fucking answers. "Time traveller? Clone? Robot? Cyborg?" He coughed a little. "Alien pod person?" His voice was a rough croak and it totally drained him to get those few words out. His body was betraying him at every turn.

Other-Frank laughed. "What would you do if I _were_ an alien pod person?"

"Dunno." As exhausted and weak as he was right now, he suspected there wouldn't be much he _could_ do except get taken over, personality lost to a cold, soulless intelligence. He shivered and concentrated on breathing for a bit. "Are you here to swallow me into your alien hive consciousness?"

"No, Frankie, I'm not." Other-Frank looked almost fond as he ran his hand lightly over Frank's head. Frank had to struggle not to move into the touch. "Promise."

Frank wished he had more of an interest in what was going on because he remembered reading somewhere that seeing your own doppelgänger was a omen of death, but right now, all he could do was nod. He might feel better if he were dead. "Okay."

Getting up, Other-Frank started rummaging through a bag at his feet. "Got some juice, some tea, some water. I want to get some fluids into you before you fall asleep again."

Swallowing, Frank could feel how dry his throat felt, from both the coughing and the oxygen. He just nodded. "Juice."

"Okay, hold on." Other-Frank left the room and Frank could hear him moving around in the kitchen, muttering about the mess. The cabinet with the cups and glasses squeaked and Frank figured Other-Frank knew his way around the apartment.

It should have freaked him out, a stranger wearing his face suddenly appearing _inside_ his apartment when he knew damn well he'd thrown all three dead bolts. He should grab his phone and dial 9-1-1 while he had the chance, while the Other-Frank was busy in the kitchen.

A lifetime of watching movies told him that things were not going to end well; he was going to end up serial-murdered or pod-personed or something equally as horrific. And right at this particular moment in time, he really didn't care.

"Here you go." Other-Frank turned off the oxygen tank and pulled off the mask, making sure not to catch it on Frank's hair.

Frank took the proffered glass and didn't hesitate to take a big gulp of the juice, feeling almost defiant. It had a funny aftertaste, but he just shrugged. If Other-Frank's serial-killer plan was to poison him, Frank was happy to help him out.

"There's no poison in the juice."

"Stop reading my mind," Frank growled. "It's not fair."

Other-Frank grinned. "I'm not reading your mind. I just re—" He shut his mouth with click of teeth.

"Remembered, huh?" Frank took another drink of the juice, watching out of the corner of his eye as Other-Frank winced. "So, not a clone. Or a pod-person. _Time traveller_."

Other-Frank shrugged. "Could be a time travelling pod-person," he said mildly. "Finish your juice."

"Fuck off, _Dad_." Frank chugged the rest of the juice.

"You really are a contrary motherfucker." He took the empty glass from Frank and set it on the table. "Lay back down."

Frank meekly did as he was told, reassuring himself that being turned into a pod-person was infinitely preferable to being this fucking miserable. His body hated him and was rebelling in the worst ways, his old band had shattered and scattered, his girlfriend had dumped him and his new band was having second thoughts. Also, his spider plant had died, even though he'd been repeatedly assured that it was impossible to kill.

Other-Frank kicked off his shoes and took off his sweater, pulled his shirt over his head and dropped it to the ground. He skinned out of his jeans, standing unconcerned in nothing but his underwear. Frank could feel his eyes getting huge at the sheer number of tats Other-Frank had inked across his arms and chest and stomach, down his legs. A lot of them were just the seeds of an idea in Frank's head. It wasn't exactly what Frank had imagined but the sprawl of ink was beautiful. His fingers itched to touch.

"Scootch over."

Frank suddenly woke from his strange lassitude. "What the fuck? No," he squeaked, feeling a blush crawl across his face, "no fucking way." Having a mostly naked hot stranger—okay, maybe not a total stranger— in his bed was a little bit more than he could handle right now. Especially since _he_ was mostly naked, as well.

Other-Frank leered comically at him and sat down on the edge of the bed. "Your virtue is safe with me, Frankie. I promise."

Because no one wanted a loser like him. He started coughing again, gasping for breath, sitting up and trying to clear his lungs.

"Hey, hey, easy, slow down," Other-Frank murmured, rubbing at the tight muscles across Frank's chest and belly. "Relax and let go, I've got you, Frankie."

Frank let himself lean into Other-Frank's touch, feeling a wave of absolute exhaustion wash over him. He made a sound that was too close to a whimper for comfort.

"C'mon, Frankie, I'm not gonna hurt you. Just going to keep you close and safe, watch over you while you sleep, okay? No funny business, I promise."

Frank just didn't have the energy to fight. "Okay," he agreed, voice shot. He laid down, leaving enough room for Other-Frank to join him. Other-Frank turned off the lamp and slid under the covers, pulling Frank into his arms.

The streetlights outside of Frank's window, normally so damn annoying, were bright enough for him to make out Other-Frank's features as he snuggled close.

"You're warm," he mumbled into Other-Frank's chest. He smelled good, clean and masculine, a hint of soap and sweat. Other-Frank was petting him, long, slow strokes up his back, detouring across his shoulders and then back down again.

He missed being touched; since the split with Jamia, no one wanted to touch him anymore, like they all were afraid he'd shatter. Or like he was tainted. Either way, Gerard, who was normally the most handsy person on the planet, had been making an effort not to touch Frank at all. The same was true of Toro, who'd grown up in a loud, boisterous family with lots of rough, physical affection. Normally Ray never hesitated to sling a friendly arm around Frank or give him a noogie.

Frank hadn't realized how much he needed to be touched until it stopped. Other-Frank was reminding him of everything that he'd been missing and it just made his stomach twist itself into knots and his chest tighten again.

"Stop it. I can feel you getting tense," Other-Frank said softly. "Everything's going to be okay, Frankie."

"Aren't you going to destroy the space-time continuum by saying that? Changing the course of history and when you go back to your time, the place will be overrun by a totalitarian government or dinosaurs or something?"

Other-Frank sighed deeply. "Why don't you let me worry about that. You need to concentrate on getting better."

"I'm never gonna get better," Frank wheezed in despair. "I'm just gonna be sick for the rest of my life, the band's gonna break my heart and fire me and I'm gonna die a lonely old man."

Other-Frank choked on what sounded suspiciously like a laugh. He nuzzled at Frank's ear. "I don't remember being this much of a drama queen when I was your age."

"Fuck you," Frank mumbled. The touch of Other-Frank's mouth at his ear sent a flush running through him, provoking some _very_ inappropriate reactions.

"Hmmm. Maybe later." Other-Frank pressed a soft kiss under his ear. "I remember popping a boner right about now."

Frank squawked and immediately regretted it; he starting coughing. It tapered off quickly, though, which made Frank wary. He inhaled deeply and held his breath; the congestion seemed to have eased a bit. "What was in the juice? Some kind of future-drug? Am I gonna get superpowers now?" He had to admit that would be way cool.

"Answering your questions in order: nothing, maybe, dunno." Other-Frank said. "Or maybe it was just plain old orange juice. Stop being so damn paranoid."

"I can't help it." He pushed weakly at Other-Frank. "I don't think you're here for a fucked up time-travel booty-call with your younger self, and I can't imagine you coming back in time just to take care of me. It doesn't make sense."

"Oh, Frankie. You deserve to be taken care of when you're sick." Other-Frank sounded sad.

He was enveloped in a tight hug and he couldn't keep from panicking a little, afraid he'd start coughing. Or maybe crying. But he managed to keep himself under control, for once.

Other-Frank moved away a little and ran his hand over the shaved side of Frank's head, making his scalp tingle. "And I would totally travel through time for a booty-call with you." He grinned, white teeth flashing in the dimness. "How's that boner doing?"

"Fuck you," Frank hissed, embarrassed. "What are you really doing here?"

There was a long, heartfelt sigh. "Pushy bastard. I forgot," Other-Frank muttered. "Fine. What do you want to know?"

It seemed almost too easy. "Why are you here, now?"

"The truth?"

Frank nodded. _Yes_.

"I'm here to take care of you."

"Bullshit."

Other-Frank sighed and rolled his eyes at Frank. "I volunteered to help someone run some calibration tests on their temporal displacement machine."

"Who?" Frank wanted to know everything at this point.

"B—our niece. She's a little bit of a—ah, a mad scientist. Crazy hair, manacial laugh, you know the deal."

"Niece?" He didn't have any siblings—maybe niece by marriage? He shrugged it off. "Why here, why _now_?"

"Because," Other-Frank said softly, "it had to be a time that was personally relevant to me. It couldn't be a historical even or something world-changing. And thinking back over my life, this was the absolutely lowest point in my life. I remember being miserably sick and lonely and terrified that the band wasn't going to work out and that I'd never find anyone who understood me the way Jamia had understood me...sound familiar?"

Frank nodded slowly.

"And I thought if I could just go back in time and maybe take care of you for a bit, make you feel a little less terrible during this time, then it was a good thing. I just remember wanting a hug so bad. Nothing more, nothing less." Other-Frank laughed softly. "B—she called me pathetic, but I tickled her until she took it back."

"So you came back through time to give me a hug? That's pretty lame. You _are_ pathetic."

"Fuck off," Other-Frank said, "How _is_ that boner of yours?" Other-Frank leaned in and nosed at Frank's ear, dragging his stubbled chin along the sensitive skin of Frank's neck. Frank shivered at the sensation, ignoring the way his dick got harder. "Mostly gone."

"Liar, liar," Other-Frank whispered hotly in his ear. "Pants on fire."

"Oh, Christ," Frank said, helplessly aroused. He needed so much to feel wanted again, to not feel alone and lost, but he wouldn't, couldn't bring himself to reach out. He was pretty sure his older self thought he was a pitiful loser as it was and he hated that.

"Frankie," Other-Frank breathed, "it's okay. I remember everything you're feeling and it's going to be okay." He pressed a chaste kiss to Frank's lips. "You're not alone, you have your friends and family and your band, who are so worried about you right now. They want to help you, they want so bad to cuddle you and make you feel better, but they're trying to give you space, because you're acting like you need it." He touched Frank's face and rubbed his thumb over the arch of his cheek, making Frank tremble at the tender touch. "I know what you're thinking right now, Frankie, and trust me when I say I don't think you're a loser. Anything but."

"I'm tired," Frank confessed. Tired of being sick, tired of being alone, tired of being afraid, tired of wanting things he couldn't have.

"I know," Other-Frank whispered. He rubbed at the nape of Frank's neck, ruffling the short hairs there. He pulled Frank flush against him, tangling their legs together. "Relax. Everything's gonna get better from here. You're going to be fine."

"Promise?" he asked, burrowing against Other-Frank's neck.

"Yeah, I promise."

Frank relaxed. He took a deep breath and held it, noting absently that it didn't hurt and he didn't have the slightest urge to cough. Definitely something in the orange juice, then. Maybe he should be more worried, but he was warm and comfortable, safe and sound in Other-Frank's arms. He let himself drift off to sleep.

When he woke, dawn was just breaking. Other-Frank was still asleep, which gave Frank the opportunity to really _look_ at him. Laugh lines around his eyes, faint wrinkles on his forehead, and the tattoos were a little faded in the morning light. He took his time examining them, marveling over them. An Our Lady of Sorrows very close to what he'd been talking to Gerard about, red bars swirling around the elbow, portraits of his grandparents, Frankenstein, the sea of stars and dots and bats, every tattoo was at the same time familiar and not.

Frank traced his fingers lightly over Other-Frank's chest piece, His fingers followed the path of the webs to the bright red heart sitting in the middle of Other-Frank's chest, inscribed with a large stylized M.

Frank wondered who M was. Wondered when he'd meet her, wondered how many kids they'd have. He had a lot of questions about his future life but he didn't think that Other-Frank would be willing to answer any of them.

"No, I'm not telling you," Other-Frank said, voice rough. "So don't even ask."

"'kay."

Other-Frank opened one eye blearily. "How are you feeling?"

Frank inhaled, sniffed, coughed experimentally. "Fine. Good, actually. Feels like whatever I had is pretty much gone." He was ignoring the morning wood he woke with, hoping it'd go away soon enough.

"That's great." Other-Frank wrapped his arms around Frank's shoulders and pulled him near. "We can go back to snuggling, then." He wiggled against Frank until Frank had to clutch at his hips. right where the devil-and-angel swallows were, trying to keep Other-Frank still, because if he got too much closer he'd notice—

"Boner City," Other-Frank said happily.

"Christ, you're awful horny for an old man." He fought not to blush.

"That's because you're so hot, baby." He waggled his eyebrows ridiculously at Frank and managed a straight face for a good ten seconds before giggling.

Frank was suddenly struck by the fact that Other-Frank was happy. It was clear in Other-Frank's face, how open he was. There was no bitterness or discontent that Frank could see. Sometime in the future he was going to shake off this weird depressive slump he'd been in and be happy again. And that happiness was going to last him a long time, twenty years or more.

Something tight and knotted in his chest loosened and he took a deep breath. It _was_ going to be all right. He finally believed that.

He looked into Other-Frank's eyes, clear and bright, the same eyes he saw in the mirror and smiled. "Thank you." He didn't give himself time to chicken out, just leaned forward and brought their mouths together. Other-Frank's lips were warm and soft. Frank hadn't expected that.

He felt Other-Frank's tongue lick out, ghosting across his mouth, flicking at his lip ring and he couldn't hold back the tiny gasp at how that faint touch made his heart pound. Other-Frank's mouth curved up in a smile; Frank could feel it against his lips and it make him smile back.

"Hey," Other-Frank said as he pulled away a little. "Not that I'm complaining, but what was that for?"

Frank shrugged. "Just for being you, I guess."

"Okay," Other-Frank said with a cocky grin, wriggling impossibly closer. "Maybe you could do it again, since I'm still me."

Frank's fingers tightened on Other-Frank's hips.

"Or you could kiss _other_ parts of me."

Frank couldn't stop the giggle that slipped out. "Oh my God, you're worse than I am."

"Nah. Not worse. _Better_."

Snorting, Frank kissed Other-Frank again just to keep him from making any more outrageous claims like that. Other-Frank started to laugh but it turned into a soft moan as Frank dipped his tongue into Other-Frank's mouth, exploring the taste and textures he found there.

It shouldn't have been a surprise, but kissing a guy wasn't really all that different from kissing a girl. The stubble on Other-Frank's face was new, but it wasn't something that Frank couldn't get used to. With some more practice.

He slid his fingers through Other-Frank's hair, soft and silky, and held tight, holding him in place as they kissed. Other-Frank let him in, gave way with a soft sigh that Frank swallowed. Other-Frank's tongue played with his, wet and sly, teasing him, making his dick even harder.

Other-Frank broke the kiss to nuzzle at Frank's neck, biting and sucking, probably leaving behind marks, the fucker. Frank tugged harder on Other-Frank's hair, trying to bring him back for another kiss, but he struggled against Frank's grip.

"Want more," Other-Frank mumbled, trying to slide down Frank's body. "Your skin's like a blank canvas, want to taste you everywhere, want to draw on you with my tongue." He nibbled at the juncture of Frank's neck and shoulder before dropping a line of kisses across his collarbone. He shook his head, trying to pull free of Frank's hands. "Let go, Frankie."

Frank hesitated for a moment. This was new and surprising and he wasn't sure— His fingers clenched in Other-Frank's hair as he flicked at Frank's nipple with his tongue. Frank thrust his hips up a little, seeking friction, as the sensation burned through him. "Fuck." He let his head fall back and his fingers slipped free, settling on the smooth skin of Other-Frank's shoulders.

"Yeah," Other-Frank breathed, slipping lower, dragging his fingernails down Frank's sides and sending shivers across his nerve endings. "Yeah, Frankie, so pretty." Other-Frank traced the outlines of future-tattoos with his mouth, followed the invisible lines of the chest piece, the angel-and-devil swallows, down, down, down.

"Fuck you," Frank panted. "'m not pretty."

"No?" Other-Frank lifted his head and met Frank's eyes. "I beg to differ. Punk rock boy, lip ring, nose ring, plugs in your ears. Baby mohawk. Tats and attitude." He licked his lips and Frank couldn't help but follow the movement. He wanted Other-Frank's mouth _everywhere_.

"Pretty's for girls."

Other-Frank shrugged. "Ah. Well." He went back to exploring Frank's navel with his tongue, nuzzling at the hair that trailed into his shorts.

"Oh, Christ," Frank moaned. "Please—" He bit his lip, trying to hold back. He couldn't ask but he _knew_ that Other-Frank wanted the words. Needed the words.

"S'okay, Frankie," Other-Frank whispered. "I remember." He carefully pulled Frank's shorts down over his cock.

"F—fuck." He was so turned on he could barely breathe. It had been a long time since anyone else had touched his dick; in the months since he and Jamia had split, he'd mostly wanted to be left alone to wallow in his misery. "Frank—" It sounded a little weird, to say his own name like that, full of need and want.

"Shhhh," he breathed before licking at Frank's cock, causing him to shudder.

He groaned softly as he kneaded Other-Frank's shoulders, trying to pull him closer. It felt so good, but it wasn't anywhere near enough. "More, fuck—"

"Yeah?" Other-Frank didn't hesitate, just slowly swallowed him down, lips and mouth and tongue perfectly hot, perfectly wet. He tried to hold still, but couldn't help trying to push up, wanting it all. He felt Other-Frank's hands gripping his hips and Frank let himself relax into his hands.

Frank twisted his head back into his pillow, clawing at the sheets under him. He couldn't help but wonder wildly how he got so good at sucking cock and then Other-Frank bobbed his head, slow and careful and Frank couldn't think about anything anymore.

Other-Frank pulled off and licked at the head of Frank's cock with the flat of his tongue, slow and teasing.

"Oh, fucking hell, close, close, so fucking close—"

"I know, Frankie, I know." Other-Frank took him back in, deep, and Frank couldn't help but cry out at the intensity of the feeling, skittering across his nerves like electricity. Panting loudly, he tried to push Other-Frank off, but he just dug his fingers into Frank's hips and held on.

Frank was sure that he was going to have bruises in the shape of fingerprints where Other-Frank was gripping so tightly and it was that image that sent him over the edge, choking on a moan and shuddering. "Oh, fffuck—" he said, back arching a little.

Other-Frank softened his mouth around Frank's oversensitive dick, idly mouthing at him as Frank melted onto the bed, blissed out by the best blowjob he'd ever gotten.

"Motherfucker," Frank sighed. "Where the hell did you learn to do that?"

Pulling off, Other-Frank grinned at him. "Here and there. I get around." He straddled Frank's stomach and grabbed his hand, pulling it to his own cock, which was tenting out his shorts. "Gonna give me a hand?"

"Oh my God, that's the worst pun ever!"

"Yeah," Other-Frank agreed breathlessly, using Frank's hand to jerk himself off, twining their fingers together. He tried to go faster, but Frank wouldn't let him, working Other-Frank into a panting, sweating mess by keeping the strokes long and slow.

"Frankie, don't tease—" he gasped. "I'm—"

"Kiss me," Frank whispered and with a groan, Other-Frank leaned down and brushed his lips against Frank's, curiously chaste and sweet.

"Who's teasing now?" he asked, moving their joined hands a little quicker.

Other-Frank just shook his head, hair covering his eyes. He looked absolutely gorgeous to Frank, mouth open and wet, hips stuttering forward, tattooed fingers laced with Frank's on his cock. The spill of the rest of his tattoos, chest, hips, arms, legs, a work of art made real and alive.

"Frank, please—" he said, voice guttural. He sounded broken and all Frank could do was wrap his fingers in Other-Frank's hair and pull him back down, nip at his neck and whisper filthy things into his ear as he jerked him off faster and harder.

"Oh—" Other-Frank's head dropped back and his cock pulsed in Frank's hand, warmth and wetness spreading, making everything slippery. Other-Frank pushed into his hand, thrusting erratically before collapsing next to Frank, breathing hard. "Yeah."

Frank wiped his hand off on the sheet and turned to cuddle close with Other-Frank, happy and satisfied.

* * *

He must have dozed off for a little bit because the next thing he knew, Other-Frank was dressed and gently shaking him awake.

"What's going on?" he asked, rubbing at his eyes blearily.

Other-Frank smiled softly at him, running the backs of his knuckles across Frank's cheek. "You're going to be just fine, Frank Iero. Trust me."

"Okay."

Other-Frank kissed him, quick and playful, before backing away. "The future's too bright to dwell on the past, Frankie. Life moves fast; you better run faster."

Frank nodded as Other-Frank slowly faded away with an electric crackle. "'See you around.'"

* * *

Frank shuddered as he rematerialized. "Christ, that feels so fucking weird." He opened his eyes to see Mikey and B watching him. He wished he'd had a chance to see past-Mikey on this trip. He could barely remember what past-Mikey was like outside of awkward knees and pointy elbows. So different from Mikey-now, who had finally put on some weight and grown graceful and centered.

"You okay?" Mikey's voice was cool and disinterested, but Frank _knew_ him. It was nothing but a sham. He reached out to help Frank off the platform, surreptitiously checking him out.

"'m fine." He squeezed Mikey's hand and tip-toed up for a kiss.

Mikey frowned skeptically at him and leaned away. "Yeah?"

Frank huffed. "No, motherfucker. I'm leaving you for my hot-ass younger self, who is much hotter and younger than you." He threaded his fingers through Mikey's hair and pulled him close, pressing their lips together softly. "Missed you."

B cleared her throat, fiddling with some readouts on the control console. "Did he suspect?"

He looked at her, thinking about it. "Yeah, the medication worked real fast, so he's a little suspicious. But he's young; he was easily distracted." Frank grinned as both B and Mikey rolled their eyes at him. "I'd forgotten what a pretty little punk I was."

"I hadn't," Mikey muttered, and Frank couldn't help but beam at him.

"Best husband ever."

"Fuck, you two, get a room," B laughed, wrapping her arms around both of them and squeezing tight. "Or go home. The sensors are reading normal. I think we're okay."

Mikey cracked a smile. "Good."

Cackling, Frank grabbed Mikey's hand and pulled him toward the door. "Saving the space-time continuum, one bj at a time. How is this my life?"

"Too much information, _Uncle_ Frank," B singsonged. "La-la-la—"

"C'mon, _Uncle_ Mikey. Let's go home."

Laughing, Mikey let Frank drag him out the door and into the night.

-fin-


End file.
